Waiting for This to Evolve
by DrKCooper
Summary: Jacqueline's life falls apart and Jane is there. Jane/Jacqueline pairing.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: All recognizable _The Bold Type_ characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to Freeform. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended._

Author's Note: Part of this was inspired by Melora Hardin's guest starring role on _A Million Little Things. _I wanted to apply the distress she put into that character to a Jacqueline scene. It was time Jacqueline be written as vulnerable and unsure. Jane is often the neurotic, over-thinking character and while those stories are fabulous, there is so much more to Hardin's character. Unrelated, but because it's driving me crazy, I kept referring to Steinem as Stafford in my first _The Bold Type_ piece. How could I forget Steinem? I'm breaking this up into chapters, as my last piece might have been a little overwhelming in length. -dkc

**To Get Me To You**

Jacqueline Carlyle entered the bullpen like a tornado on an undetermined path. The lights were off, only Jane's desk lamp offering a low glow at her workstation. She watched her boss fly into her glass-walled office and angrily throw her purse at the couch. She had never seen Jacqueline unpolished much less undone.

Attempting to not stare and allowing Jacqueline the privacy she needed, Jane returned to her work. However, she wanted badly to help. It was soft crying that brought her to her feet.

"Jacqueline?" Jane had moved quickly to the office door and stood with it cracked, not quite comfortable intruding.

"It's not a good time," came a broken voice.

"I see that. Is there anything I can do?" Jane asked sincerely.

"No, thank you."

She couldn't let it go when she heard the sadness inherent those words. Closing the door behind her, she took several steps toward Jacqueline to place a gentle hand on her forearm. Jacqueline exhaled.

"Jane."

"What happened? Is it the board?" she moved to stand before the older woman. When she saw the mascara streaks and pain on that usually flawless face, she knew it was something far more personal than the board. "Oh."

"My husband filed for divorce," Jacqueline's voice cracked, containing an emotion not easily identified.

"Ian...he...why?" she was taken aback by the revelation. They had seemed happy. Appearances can be deceiving.

Steely blue eyes dropped. The powerful, confident Jacquelyn Carlyle was ashamed.

"An affair," Jane sighed at this. "For six years."

Jane was shocked.

"Oh, god, I am so sorry," Jane stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the woman who had come to mean so much to her.

Jacqueline was surprised by the warmth and comfort of those arms. She found her breathing even out, her intense anger melt away and her tears slow.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Of course," Jane let the hug linger long enough to express her sympathy, but not long enough to be awkward.

Wiping her tears away and attempting to pull herself together, the editor-in-chief was about to dawn the ever-present mask when she walked into the building.

"He's a fool."

Jane's unexpected words prevented the mask from falling into its place.

"You don't have to say that. Thank you, though," that bashful smile was beautiful even in distress.

"I wouldn't have if I didn't mean it."

Stepping to the couch, the brunette picked up the items that had fallen out when the purse had landed there. She held it out for Jacqueline and offered in one look support and friendship.

"You have my phone number if you need anything."

Jane left Jacqueline to gather her strength and to make her way out of the dark office in her own time. She hoped she would be okay.

_To be continued_…


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: A short chapter that continues the fallout of chapter 1. –dkc

**Chapter Two**

The news had hit the _New York Post_, _New York Times_ and TMZ. Many eyes were on Jacqueline Carlyle to find any crack in that unemotional façade and generally solid foundation. It must have been excruciating to exist in a world where everyone around her knew her husband had not only filed for divorce but had been carrying on a years-long affair.

Jane couldn't help but glance Jacqueline's way from time to time. Unlike her colleagues who were gawking in curiosity, hers was heartfelt concern.

She had noticed Richard's arrival. Whenever there was trouble upstairs the duty of correcting or warning the editor-in-chief always fell to Richard. It appeared that despite their friendship, trouble was lurking.

After Richard left, Jacqueline sat in her chair staring out the window at the city she equally loved and held disdain for. Nothing was private if you had ever been in the public eye. Jane wondered what her boss was feeling. She pulled out her phone and typed out a message:

"I'm sorry."

Looking at her phone and then looking up to catch Jane's eye across the room, Jacqueline offered a grateful nod.

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

It was becoming a regular occurrence that Jane Sloan was the last to leave the _Scarlet_ offices every night. Since her promotion from assistant to writer she had put in long hours and her best work.

That night she wasn't the last one to leave. She had heard the familiar elevator ding immediately followed by the tap-tap-tap of exquisite high heels. Jacqueline made her presence known before being within eyesight.

"Hello, Jane," she said as she made her way through desks. "You shouldn't burn the candle and both ends."

Speaking of burning the candle at both ends, Jacqueline looked like hell. She had bags under her eyes that no concealer could hide. In fact, it appeared that whatever concealer may have existed there at one point in the day had either been wiped off or washed away by tears. She had left the office last night before many of the staff. Jane speculated about whether she was able to go home or what the arrangement was during the divorce proceedings. It made her momentarily angry to think a husband would displace his wife, the mother of his two children, after committing adultery and filing for divorce.

Jane made an offer quickly as if to make the words come out before her brain had caught up to stop them: "Would you like to get a drink?"

Jacqueline stopped, placing a hand on the corner of an empty desk to disguise hedging. She slowly turned to face her much-valued employee.

"I don't think it wise that the night after the news of my divorce hit every publication in this city I be seen out with, respectfully, a younger employee," Jane understood that the 'respectfully' was added not to soften any blow of her age and employment status being mentioned but because of the implication that Jacqueline, too, could have her dalliances.

"Look, I know you can't be seen out. I wouldn't want that for you. I also don't want you to stay at the office because it's too hard to face whatever is outside this building," Jane avoided Jacqueline's implication entirely. "We can go to my apartment, have a drink and then you can go…" she hesitated at the thought "…home."

Eyelids closed briefly, one fist opening and closing. It was the gratitude in blue eyes that gave Jane her answer. She stood before actual words were spoken, shutting off her computer.

"If you trust your driver, you could have him meet us at the employee entrance. In case some desperate cameraman is still downstairs at this hour."

Jacqueline never went to her office; she nodded and followed Jane's lead.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: Finally a longer chapter and one that picks up the pace a touch; slow burn still in tact. –dkc

**Chapter Four**

The amount of anxiety coursing through Jane's veins as she stepped out of the town car and retrieved her keys from her purse was staggering. She had no idea why she was having such a strong reaction to something as harmless as inviting a colleague over for a drink after a long day.

This wasn't any colleague; this was Jacqueline Carlyle. And it was her apartment not some bar near the office.

"Jane?" The voice behind her snapped her out of the reverie and she managed to insert the key before turning the knob.

Walking in she spotted clothing that had been shorn the night before on her way to the shower. Grabbing first for the delicates on top. She tossed them into her room, as smoothly as such a scenario would allow. Her mind surfaced the memory of the time her boss had thrown open the curtain to the fashion closet to find Jane standing in a bralette as Sutton and Kat attempted to free her from a stuck article of clothing. What this woman must think of her!

"Wine? Beer? Whiskey?" Jane said the last word with a hint of a smile as she turned and saw Jacqueline had made herself at home on the couch.

"I'm surprised you ladies have beer. You don't strike me as beer drinkers," Jacqueline admired the color-arranged bookshelves. "Wine, red, if you have it."

Pulling two wine glasses from the cupboard, Jane took a deep breath to gather her wits. She had no idea what was causing this reaction. It was just Jacqueline. _Right_.

Bringing the glasses and a corkscrew, the brunette carefully balanced a bottle of wine in her armpit. She sat and opened the bottle to allow it to breathe.

"Your apartment is charming."

"I'd like to take full credit, but Sutton has a designer's eye. Though when _Incit_e fired me I did clean this place from top to bottom and the book arrangement is my handy work."

Jacqueline seemed to be lost in thought, perhaps remembering a time in her life when she first set out on her own, working her way up at a magazine and living with friends in whatever loft they could afford.

"Is Sutton?" Jane watched Jacqueline's eyes travel to the door, hesitance behind them.

"She won't be home tonight," Jane assured the blonde and was met with the raised eyebrow that could ask a million questions without a spoken word. "Oh, God, she'd strangle me if I blabbed."

Jacqueline smiled at this and reached for the wine. Pouring them each a liberal amount, she offered Jane hers and they touched glasses.

"Thank you for this," she said. "You really didn't have to."

"I was not taking pity on you when I asked, so don't even think it. I really am worried about you."

Prolonged eye contact was intense.

"I'll be okay," Jacqueline seemed to have convinced herself despite the hint of uncertainty lurking beneath.

"I don't doubt that," Jane sipped her wine as she contemplated her next move. "Would you like to talk about it?"

She had opened the door and if the woman didn't walk through it, she couldn't blame her. They could discuss work.

"There isn't much to say," she looked away, fidgeting with the upholstery on the back of the couch. "I missed it."

Jane's heart broke. She now saw how deeply Jacqueline had internalized this and was blaming herself.

"It's not always easy to see," Jane offered.

"Apparently not when you're the editor-in-chief of Stafford's flagship publication working god knows how many hours at the office, at galas, at fashion shows."

Their bodies were turned toward one another, allowing Jane to easily reach out and place a hand on Jacqueline's knee. If the tables were turned, she knew the other woman wouldn't have thought twice about doing the same.

"You can't believe this is your fault," she found her voice reflecting how protective she was suddenly feeling. "I don't think you do."

Taking a long drink of her wine, the boss noted the hand on her knee as well as her increasing need to be frank.

"The thing is, I don't, not really. If I were what he wanted, he had me. What he wanted changed. And you don't decide at this age to be an entirely different person for anyone."

"You don't decide that at any age. People don't change; not like that."

For a brief moment Jacqueline seemed to be inching closer to placing a hand over Jane's, but her candor felt like too much. Touching Jane definitely would be too much.

At least not without more wine.

"How are your boys?" Jane wasn't letting Jacqueline pull back from this conversation even if she was accepting that a shared touch was too much.

"Nothing has really changed for them. They see their father at the same times of the day as usual. They see me when I'm not, well, working. This news cycle will break. They don't see much of that anyway."

Jane refilled their glasses and kicked off her shoes. She wanted to appear as relaxed as possible—this might be the most relaxation Jacqueline would get this week.

"They seem like great boys," she said, though she had met them only once. "I can't imagine you having children that weren't."

For a reason that couldn't be deciphered, Jacqueline seemed uncomfortable talking about her children. Not having children of her own, Jane couldn't make heads or tails of it. She didn't press.

Taking a deep breath, the older woman placed her wine glass on the coffee table and reached for her own heels, taking them off smoothly and, Jane blushed at the thought, seductively.

"God, I never thought I would be here," she sighed.

"In my apartment?" she joked.

"Frankly, yes. However, I meant I never thought I would be that wife whose husband leaves her for a younger woman after two decades of marriage. To be where I am in my career and yet back to the beginning in my personal life."

Noticing that the bottle would only yield one more refill, Jane stood to grab another.

"Look at me drinking you out of wine and boo-hooey on your couch." The brand of self-deprecating humor utilized was not characteristic of the powerhouse using it.

"You are far from that," the new bottle joined the other. "You know, there are perks to being single."

Immediate embarrassment registered on her face as she had said it. She groaned.

"Just when I thought I couldn't possibly top having told you I wanted to fulfill your expectations sexually, I go and sound as if I'm propositioning you."

Then something magical happened: Jacqueline Carlyle let out a long, deep laugh.

"I'm glad you're able to laugh at my expense."

Maybe it was that they had finished off a bottle of wine or maybe it was simply their walls coming down when one on one, whatever it was, they both felt the ground shifting and went with it.

"If you had been serious either time, that would be a different matter," Jacqueline smiled, pulling her feet up under her. "The flash of abject terror that came over you the first time was quite comical."

"Mmhmm," Jane mumbled into her glass. "Who said I wasn't serious either time?"

Jacqueline was not expecting that. In fact, she was caught off guard to the point of nearly dribbling wine down her chin. She caught herself quickly, looking up into brown eyes that reflected a touch of mystery.

"No, you're right, I was hoping the floor would swallow me whole when I told you I said that about your expectations," Jane chuckled. "I'm better with words in print."

Filing away the newfound knowledge that Jane had denied one but not the other, Jacqueline smiled and steered the boat back to safer waters.

"What did you have planned tonight? Is Kat out without you?" she asked, moving her legs again, her feet aching from the shoes she had punished herself with that day.

"May I?" Jane asked, losing her glass and focusing her attention on those tired feet.

Jacqueline was surprised with how at ease Jane seemed and couldn't remember when she had last had a foot massage. It was sublime. She was glad when Jane spoke because she was afraid what might break the pause would be her uttering an appreciative moan.

"No, Kat is with Adena," her response was fairly nonchalant for someone giving her boss a foot rub.

"Was this Kat's—" her question was cut off rather abruptly.

"Yes, it was her first real relationship," Jane didn't know why she had jumped to prevent whatever description the other woman might use for Kat's awakening.

Jacqueline seemed to be contemplating something for a moment that couldn't be read on her face.

"Were you and she ever...?"

"Kat and I?" Jane let out a belly laugh.

She actually had tears at the corners of her eyes that she wiped away with the back of a hand taken far too soon from the feet now in her lap.

"God, that's funny. No, no, nooo."

They were definitely buzzed. It was making for a no holds barred conversation and one that was about to get a bit more interesting.

"Oh. Kat didn't know she was into girls. And you?" The question was more than Jane had bargained for. She sidestepped.

"For the daughter of two shrinks, she has a startling lack of self-awareness."

"And you?"

Jacqueline wasn't letting her off the hook.

"I'm afraid I may have an overdeveloped sense of self-awareness. Have you read my articles?" Jacqueline smiled at this.

"And...?" the question was hanging in the air between them.

"You've met Ben and there is Pinstripe—," she noticed the twitch of an ever-inquisitive eyebrow and elaborated, "Ryan worked for _Pinstripe_ when I first met him. And there were women, if you must know. But never Kat. She is far from my type."

"Now that begs the question, how so?"

Jane found herself in need of a whole lot more wine with the twist this conversation had taken. She reached for her glass and let her mind catch up to her lips.

"Don't get me wrong, I love Kat. She is a great friend. She is extremely good at what she does. She's an amazing human being."

"But?" Jacqueline hummed.

"I find confidence attractive. A person who is secure in their skin, a person who is confident in who they are and even who they are not is sexy to me. A person who can stand alone without wondering if they are enough and stand beside me without being overbearing or threatened. Kat second-guesses herself far more than I do. The hair is also a bit much."

There was no doubt that Jane had used the hair comment to break through the introspection that occurred in her answer. She knew as she was saying it that the person she was describing was very much like the woman on her couch.

"And Ben? Is he that?" Jacqueline asked, pulling her feet away while Jane stood and removed her blazer. "Confident?"

"I suppose he is, though being in very different fields it is hard to tell how that fits with my personality," she shrugged. "He's also safe."

It is amazing how one glance can heat skin. Jane felt Jacqueline's eyes on her biceps as she exposed them.

"I know you don't mean safe in the physical sense and you're too bright and curious to mean boring. What is safe?" Jacqueline queried.

"That's a good question. The opposite would of course be Ryan, though why Ben is safe and Ryan isn't, I'm not sure. Maybe stability is what I mean by safe? Or picking the person that everyone else thinks you should?"

"And what does your heart say?" And there it was, the question of all questions. Sitting there on that couch, more than buzzed and opening up to she who was once intimidating and closed off, Jane didn't have an answer or rather her answer was neither Ben nor Ryan.

"I..." she wasn't stalling; she didn't know what it was her heart was telling her. "I guess I don't know."

"You're young, you have plenty of time."

Jacqueline placed a hand on Jane's bare shoulder. The heat returned. It was mutual. Chalking it up to a lot of wine, they attempted to ignore it and move on. In the back of Jacqueline's mind she filed this away, too, compartmentalizing it and labeling it as dangerous. Jane, well, she was far more intrigued than scared.

The conversation flowed smoothly for another hour, winding its way through the many loves and losses in their lives, the delicate balance of life and career and the paths they had followed to arrive where they were. Eventually Jane's exhaustion caught up to her and she couldn't stifle a yawn.

"I really should go," Jacqueline said. "I didn't realize how late it was."

Without heels, the blonde wasn't much taller than Jane. When she stood from the couch and swayed, Jane stood to afford some balance. They were nearly eye-to-eye. It was electric.

"Why don't you stay?" Jane found herself saying aloud.

"Jane."

Jacqueline's vision may have blurred but her inherent sense of where the line was hadn't. She didn't assume she was being asked for something more. It remained a precarious position.

"Seriously, Sutton won't be home. You can sleep off some of that wine on her bed. You're truly welcome to. And we can pretend it never happened."

There was relief on Jacqueline's face. She had realized how concerning it must have been for Jacqueline to think there was something underneath the offer. Once she was in her own bed, alone, she found herself contemplating what might have happened if she had been asking for something else—something risky.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"Jane!" Sutton's voice sounded like she was amplifying it with a bullhorn.

"Jesus, why are you yelling?" she groaned.

"Why was another human in my bed and why is there lipstick on a wine glass on the coffee table with two empty bottles of wine?" Sutton was now kneeling on the bed staring at Jane.

"Good morning to you, too."

"I swear to god, if you don't start talking, I am going to resort to tickling," Sutton was not messing around.

Burying her face in her pillow momentarily, she waded through her memories of the night before and kept stopping on that moment when she stood eye to eye with her mentor and saw her not as a towering force and accomplished editor, she saw her as a woman and a gorgeous one at that. The pit in her stomach returned when she remembered the soft sound of the front door closing when Jacqueline slinked out in the early hours of the morning.

"Jacqueline crashed here," she finally mumbled. "We had too much to drink."

"Our boss?!" squeaked her roommate.

"Unless you know another Jacqueline."

Turning toward her bedside clock, Jane smiled when she saw a tall glass of water and two aspirin there. _Jacqueline_.

"Why was she here? Why were you drinking? She stayed?!"

"You really have to calm down and lower your voice if we're going to talk about this."

Jane was now sitting, drinking the water.

"I'm sorry, I can't wrap my head around this."

Sutton was not alone in that.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Alright, somebody set me straight. This whole S(t)afford/Steinem thing is driving me crazy! Is the company they word for called Safford and the building it is located in called Steinem? Help! –dkc

**Chapter Six**

Jacqueline Carlyle walked onto the floor of her magazine and strode through the bullpen with dark sunglasses on. She was not about to let her staff see any cracks. She'd had two days to recover from the drinking of Friday night, but she'd shed many tears that morning causing puffiness she hoped to shield for as long as possible. Jane's eyes followed those dark glasses across the entire perimeter of the room.

"Alex!" Jacqueline called as she opened her office door.

Alex and Jane exchanged a perplexed look as he stood to report.

Jane wished she could hear what was being said on the other side of the door. She noticed the dark glasses remained on.

When Alex emerged from the office, he shrugged his shoulders as he found his seat. He looked over at Jane and seemed to be silently apologizing.

Just then an iMessage popped up on Jane's computer screen. It was the boss.

_I'm going to have Alex take over the 30 under 30 piece_, it read.

Jane's heart sunk. Had she done something wrong? Was she entirely in the wrong Friday night when she invited Jacqueline over for drinks and allowing her to stay? Was she being punished?

As if reading her mind, another message popped up:

_You could do that piece in your sleep. I have an idea for you_.

What a relief!

When they caught up later, Jane searched Jacqueline's face for any indication of how she truly was. She saw the editor-in-chief guise and was prepared to let it go. That is she was prepared to let it go until Jacqueline threw her a curveball.

"I want you to write about what it is to make the safe choice," she informed. "How to know if you're choosing for love or safety."

Jane's jaw must have dropped at her disbelief.

"Listen, you told me in confidence about your Ben vs. Ryan problem. I'm not asking you to reveal that particular dilemma or your choice, if you should have one in mind. I would never take advantage of your candor. I think it would be helpful for women your age, hell, even my age, to reframe these decisions."

Jacqueline had been leaning against the edge of Jane's desk, arms crossed, looking down at her like she had every day that Jane had been on the writing staff. This time Jane squirmed and not out of fear.

"And how should I reframe the question?" Jane asked.

"Perhaps that the decision doesn't have to be made at all," she spoke without sarcasm or any other tell that would suggest she was anything but serious.

"I know you aren't talking about polyamory or bigamy," they both chuckled at this, Jane anxiously.

"Of course not," Jacqueline smiled. "But shouldn't such a vital question be broader? Why is safe the counterpoint to happy?"

The writer was turning the idea over in her mind, endeavoring to leave out the personal.

"I'm sure you can come up with something."

It was when Jacqueline stood, touched her shoulder and walked away that Jane gave in and inserted the personal.

_What does she mean by broader? Why did this pique her interest? She hadn't been the least bit interested in Jane's love life prior to now? Did this have something to do with the divorce? _ Considerations inundated her.

_What the actual fuck?_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The following morning Sutton and Jane arrived at the Steinem building the latter looking worse for the wear.

"This could have all been avoided if you hadn't allowed..." Sutton dropped her voice as she looked around the lobby. "...Jacqueline to sleep in my bed!"

"Whoa!" Kat had walked up at that exact moment. "What did I miss?"

"Jane had a sex dream," Sutton shrugged.

"Stop!" Jane was now blushing and wishing she hadn't told Sutton on the way in to the office why she was so tired. She had been awake since 3 a.m. when she woke from a vivid dream about her boss, sweating and aroused.

"Okay, I'm confused," Kat tried to shake the cobwebs out of her own mind. "Jane had a sex dream in her bed? What does that have to do with your bed? And, excuse me, what the hell does Jacqueline have to do with any of this?"

Jane shushed them. After hearing their names called and picking up their coffee, the three friends made their way to the elevators.

"Jane had Jacqueline over for drinks," Sutton whispered. "Drinks turned into two bottles of wine and our boss ended up crashing on my bed."

"Were you in it?" Kat's exaggerated shock made even Jane laugh.

"I was at Richard's."

"Okay, I want know about all of that," she said drawing a circle in the air to encapsulate all the thoughts revolving around Jane. Then she asked the imperative question. "So why would any of that have to do with Jane's sex dream?"

Jane looked at her feet and Sutton could only smirk. Nobody said anything until they were shielded behind the elevator doors climbing the dozens of floors to Scarlet's offices.

"Jane's sex dream was about Jacqueline!" Sutton blurted out.

"What?!" Kat hadn't seen that coming. "You—wait—did something happen with you and Jacqueline while you were drinking? Were you both in Sutton's bed?"

"No!" she was a bit too quick and firm in her denial.

"Well, well. This is quite a lot to unpack."

Kat wanted nothing more than to tease Jane relentlessly about this, but she could also see the writer was self-conscious, confused and dawning her armor for a day at the office. Who was she to mock anyone else for not being in tune with their sexuality in their mid-20s?

"My parents would tell you that sex dreams are the mind's way of sorting out associations in your life and the emotions attached to them," the elevator doors opened as Kat finished her best shrink impersonation. "Or you had a sex dream because you really need to release some tension."

At that moment Jane looked up and saw their superior standing, phone in hand, outside the elevator doors, heading down as the girls were arriving. To say that Jane was mortified would be the understatement of the century.

Kat was able to smile and say good morning to Jacqueline while Sutton walked straight ahead to avoid bursting into unnerved laughter. Bright red and avoiding eye contact with her amused boss, she maneuvered around Jacqueline and wanted nothing more than to hide under her desk for the rest of the day.

Sitting down in her chair, Jane banged her head on her desk a few times. Alex looked over at her with alarm. Entering her passcode and opening her messages, the deep desire to bang her head on her desk some more was replaced by a different desire entirely. She read the message from Jacqueline twice before finally believing her eyes weren't deceiving her:

_Sex dreams usually mean something. _

Mind blown.

_Yes, they usually do_, Jane mused.

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

"Oh, Jane!" Jacqueline actually jumped as she rounded the corner. "I didn't know you were still here. You startled me."

"I'm sorry," looking up from her screen she was as surprised as her boss. "I didn't realize you were here, either. I hope not out of avoidance."

"No, nothing like that," she reached into the under cabinet fridge for a bottle of water. Jane tried not to look, but found she couldn't resist a peek at the blonde's ass. The flowing black trousers left very little to the imagination. She frustratingly blushed.

Turning around, noting the color in Jane's cheeks, Jacqueline wisely chose not to address it. She sat down at the table cluttered with notes, outlines and a pair of intriguing glasses.

"You don't always wear glasses," she noted.

The long, slow drink of water passing bright red lips caused Jane a momentary stutter.

"I…I…I don't," came the eventual reply. "Mostly when I am staring at screens for too long."

"It will only get worse, I'm afraid," the older woman smirked. "Age is a cruel mistress."

Nodding, the writer found herself shy. She had never been shy in her life!

"Your article?" Jacqueline indicated with an inflection that prodded additional information from even the calmest person.

Closing her laptop, Jane didn't want Jacqueline to see while she was working on her latest assignment that she also hadn't finished the piece on babies as accessories because she had changed the direction. She was furious that Steinem's insurance didn't pay for fertility treatments.

"It is making me crazy. If there was alcohol in this kitchen I would have broken into it by now."

"You know there is scotch in my office, right?" the implication clear.

"Then I _really_ won't get this draft done," Jane shook her head.

"It may clear your head and reset your opinion."

Jane followed behind without having to be asked twice.

"You know, we have a thing about alcohol and couches," Jane had no sooner said it than she had wanted it back. "Oh, god."

She wasn't sure which part of what she said humiliated her most. She had said _we_. Mentioning their time on couches had an undercurrent of innuendo she couldn't censor.

To her relief, Jacqueline found nothing inappropriate or uncomfortable about what she had said. She was an over thinker, too. She understood Jane's mental tennis match. Handing over a tumbler of scotch, their hands touched. There was a spark in that split second. Jane saw what she was feeling written all over the other woman's face.

"I do believe we once drank tea on this one," her boss had an incredible ability to disguise what she was thinking.

Jane sipped her scotch, looking over the glass.

"What does Ben think?"

"Hmm?" her response was as confused as it was stupefied by the lack of segue.

"About BRCA."

Jacqueline slipped off her heels and pulled her legs up under her body. For a moment Jane's mind went back to the foot massage she so willingly offered on her own couch.

"He prepared me a folder of research," she exhaled.

"That's not what I meant," replied Jacqueline.

There wasn't enough alcohol in the dimly lit office to prepare Jane for this conversation. It all came back around to the topic of her article.

"Your best writing comes from a very personal place. I didn't give this assignment to you without considering whether it might cause an upheaval in your life. You must know that I have never intended to do that."

The care with which she spoke was not that of an older sister, as Jane had once thought of her, or a mentor—never thinking of her as a mother figure, it wasn't even that of a friend. There existed an undeclared closeness between them.

"No? You didn't mean to put me onto the path of finding the elusive orgasm?" coyness was Jane's default defense.

Jacqueline chuckled and swallowed a considerable amount of scotch before continuing.

"That was certainly a revelation."

What was that tone? It seemed to insinuate that time had been spent thinking about that disclosure.

"Oh, I'm sure it was," Jane smirked, her cheeks coloring. "Nothing like learning one of your staff members hasn't had an orgasm at the ripe old age of twenty-five."

"You aren't just any staffer," her editor countered.

Ms. Carlyle had an aura around her that could cause people to become discomfited. Off balance they would often blurt things out that were regrettable. Jane had done precisely that more times than she could count. Now was a terrible time to not measure her responses, but she did what she did best—propelled herself into the unknown.

"No, I suppose I'm not. I drink on your couch, leer at you over my glass and _platonically_ give you foot rubs."

_Here lies the boundary_, Jacqueline thought.

"Or not so platonically," she said it under her breath while avoiding Jane's expression.

The silence was deafening. It wasn't uncomfortable so much as laced with anticipation and interest.

"May I ask you something?" Jane wanted to be direct. It would take courage.

"Anything. You never have to ask."

The blonde was refilling their glasses when Jane finally voiced her question.

"When you say things like that to me, are you flirting or is it innocent banter and I am misconstruing it?" she asked.

"I suppose it is flirting," Jacqueline paused. "Is that okay?"

For the first time since they had begun spending time with one another, there was implied concern about the appropriateness and professionalism of doing what they were doing. The boss shouldn't fraternize with the staff. The boss should not flirt with staff. The boss should not feel about a staff member the way this boss was beginning to feel about this employee.

"Yes." Jane didn't hesitate.

Taking a drink of her scotch, Jacqueline held eye contact with Jane.

"Now that we have that out of the way, tell me about Pinstripe," the conversation returned to more sound footing. "Could he be safe or will he always carry with him some degree of risk?"

Rolling her eyes, Jane explained what Ryan had offered her and how obliged to her he felt for pushing him to get his novel published.

"Can I ask what your relationship has been in the past? Before he made this unusual though generous offer."

Thinking carefully about what to reveal, Jane took a noticeable gulp of scotch and spoke honestly.

"Sex. Purely sex."

Blue eyes narrowed, taking this in.

"I see."

Jane ran through possibilities: Jacqueline was surprised—that didn't fit; Jacqueline was disgusted—she was no prude, it wouldn't matter that she knew Jane was also having sex with Ben; Jacqueline was intrigued—possibly; Jacqueline was…jealous? No, that couldn't be it, surely.

"That's what your twenties are for," she said.

Reaching for her phone to see the time, there was a sudden distance between them.

"God, it's late. I need to get home."

"Oh, of course," Jane stood and placed her glass on the side table. "I didn't mean to keep you."

"You're kidding. Our couch time is saving me right now."

Legitimate indebtedness was exchanged.

"Have a good night, Jacqueline. Thank you for the drink."

"Anytime, Jane, anytime." She had spoken quietly and far too late to be heard by the departing writer.

_What in the hell was she doing?_ Jacqueline kicked herself.

_To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Jane was overwhelmed and confused. She wished she could find a couch, have a drink and ask her newfound confidant. She couldn't, not really. Her confusion was largely due to that confidant.

She had received mixed signals personally and professionally.

The night she asked Jacqueline if she was flirting, she thought they were having a breakthrough. Then her boss had called an end to their night.

The lead up to Paris was marked with tension around the office as everyone had heard the rumors about the editor-in-chief. Was she on her way out? Most said yes. Jane understood her timing to be terrible when she reworked her story to attack _Scarlet_'s parent company for refusing to cover fertility treatments. Her boss had been cold. She didn't explain why she was being resistant. She had been only mildly pleased to see Jane in the lobby of the hotel on, of all things, a couch. Jacqueline sat across from her. That only happened at the office with the editor behind her desk and rarely at that.

When they returned from Paris she understood Jacqueline to be on a short leash with the board of directors. Richard's announcement to the board and Human Resources that he was dating Sutton had caused a stir.

Meanwhile, Jane remained in a tug-o-war with herself about Ryan and Ben. She wanted to ask a person with the life experience to offer sound advice, but she couldn't. Instead all she had was her article on her 'safe' person to work out her conflicted feelings.

"Sloan!" came the command from across the bullpen.

Jane jumped. What had she done? She made the slow walk through the maze of workstations, people looking up at her as if she were walking the plank.

"Yes, Jacqueline?" she nervously asked.

"Close the door."

Jane did as she was told and found a seat across from the blonde.

"Your draft for this week's print deadline?" Jacqueline began. "And do you have a new pitch for the website deadline?"

"I apologize for missing the writers' meeting this morning. I had an appointment," she didn't let on that it was with the fertility specialist.

"It was unlike you. I assume everything is okay?" she looked over her reading glasses with concern.

"It... yes, everything is fine," It was painful to withhold the details. It felt like lying. Her mind went back to when they sat in this very office on the couch behind her and this person whom she had begun to consider a friend had offered her unconditional support no matter what Jane decided. That felt like another lifetime or a dream.

"I have a source in the mayor's office who told me about—"

Jacqueline cut her off.

"A political piece?" she seemed annoyed.

"Not political—" she was cut off again.

"If it takes a position that the mayor's office will find to be critical or an attack, it's political."

The writer paused. The last thing she wanted was to speak sharply and make things worse. Her editor had gone to bat for her not even two weeks ago. She needed to pick her battles. This pitch wasn't one of them. However, their growing friendship was.

"Can I ask if I've done something wrong? Personally, not necessarily professionally," she had a hard time maintaining eye contact.

"Why do you ask?" Jacqueline's puzzlement wasn't convincing. Jane gave her the very look Jacqueline had perfected. A tilt of a sculpted eyebrow said it all.

Taking a look out at the staff, there were eyes on the meeting behind the glass. Her office often felt like a fishbowl.

"Can we continue this conversation at another time?" the editor asked. Jane knew exactly why.

Standing from her chair, Jane left it at that. She said nothing else until she had nearly cleared the door.

"I'll have a new web pitch for you in a few hours and my final draft will be in by the print deadline tomorrow."

Jane Sloan could be cold, too.

_Tbc…_


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

It was approaching dinnertime and Jane had not turned in copy for the print deadline. With no sign of Jacqueline, Jane wrote up a short, to the point email with her now second web pitch, hit send, shut down her computer and made her way outside the Steinem building.

"Ms. Sloan?" she looked up to see a driver standing on the sidewalk. She nodded and he directed her to the door of a black town car.

She caught sight of long, splendid legs before sliding into the car. It was then that she recognized how helpless she was to control the way the other woman's body affected her. How long had this been the case? Had she once been immune to those legs? And god, how could she have been so oblivious to her hopelessness?

"Do you have plans?" Jacqueline asked in lieu of hellos.

Jane shook her head. That was all Jacqueline needed. Nodding to her driver, the blonde didn't say where they were going. She certainly wasn't telling Jane.

"I emailed you my pitch," Jane said nervously.

"I got it."

"If you want me to tweak the bit about—" Jacqueline cut her off.

"Relax, Jane. Let's leave work at work, shall we?"

Taking a deep breath, Jane knew exactly what this was. This was the time Jacqueline hoped they could have when their conversation earlier hadn't been suitable for the office. Jane turned her body and looked at her boss head on. She would have sworn she saw a mischievous glint in Jacqueline's eyes.

"I promise to get you home in time to have a draft ready for me in the morning."

With her razzing, Jacqueline reached over and lightly touched the brunette's arm. Looking down, Jane admired the way the gold bangles of the wrist touching her complimented the older woman's sun-touched skin tone. If she focused on the bracelets perhaps she could ignore the butterflies. This would prove impossible when she recognized the neighborhood approaching.

They were nearing the Carlyle's loft—Jacqueline's loft.

...

"Forgive me for my lack of manners," said the voice carrying two glasses of wine from the kitchen. "You could have used a drink the second you walked in the door."

Jane had her back turned as she perused the bookshelves.

"I could have used a drink the second I got in the car," Jane chuckled.

Handing off the drink, the other woman motioned for the couch and smiled when she saw the stubborn expression on Jane's face.

"Here," she began to walk away. "Come with me."

Around the corner was the most beautiful study Jane had ever seen. It had some of the touches of the office at _Scarlet_ but without the glass. There was a desk with a high-back chair and two matching overstuffed chairs with a tasteful lamp between them. It wasn't a couch. Jane felt more at ease.

"This is breathtaking," Jacqueline heard Jane but found her mind elsewhere as she watched the struggle the small—and she did look tiny in that huge chair—woman was having keeping her short skirt from riding up as she sat down. Jane was expecting a response as she looked over, looking away afraid Jacqueline would catch her.

"Thank you, Jane," the long delayed reply came.

Those words held a deeper meaning that was still trying to be sussed out.

"I want to apologize for my behavior of late," she spoke softly.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Jane shook her head.

"I do. I treated you like—" she was cut off.

"An employee?"

The assertion stung yet was true.

Jacqueline sighed. She abandoned her wine glass, closed her eyes and tipped her head back for a moment.

"Yes." The word was heavy with disappointment.

"Jacqueline, I don't know what requires apologizing for. I am your employee. I understand why—"

"Do you?" Jacqueline stopped her. "Because I don't."

"You're going to have to clarify. I'm afraid I'm not on the same page," Jane's brow furrowed.

"I was flirting. I was..." color came to her cheeks. "Jesus, Jane, just now I was appreciating your thighs!"

Her distress made Jane smile.

Extricating herself from the chair without looking too ridiculous, concern replacing the subsiding laughter, Jane perched on the square arm of the other chair, her hand on the other woman's knee that had been pulled up on the seat.

"I asked you if it was flirting and you asked me if it was okay. I said yes if you recall. I don't see what the problem is."

Brown eyes with such genuineness were enough to unnerve the usually polished and controlled Jacqueline. She put her hands in her hair, hiding behind her forearms.

"But I am your—"

"Boss? That may be the least complicated part of all of this," her hand offered a comforting squeeze. "You are also in the midst of a divorce. I am a mess and, well, I can't even settle into a relationship with a good man who loves me and wants nothing more than for me to have a child. You have an amazing career. God, you are the formidable Jacqueline—"

"Do _not_ say both my names. I will hit you with this pillow," she threatened playfully.

"I am not in your league!"

There it was. Jane felt inferior. She didn't believe she deserved the likes of this gorgeous, amazing woman. It wasn't about their professional relationship. Jane wasn't confident as a writer, either. She doubted her worth as much as she doubted her talent. Perhaps that, too, was why she didn't believe she was good enough for Ben's concern or Ryan's generosity.

"Jane..." came a gentle voice laced with true affection. "Do not sell yourself short. You are incredible. You are so much more than you know."

"Then what is the problem?" she wondered.

"You are closer in age to my boys then you are to me."

"Do you think that bothers me? It doesn't," Jane would not allow those blue eyes to break contact. She held Jacqueline's chin in place with an index finger. "I don't know how to be any more clear about my being okay with this."

Jane gestured between them, her finger following an imaginary line that tied them to each other. Where her hand had been on Jacqueline's knee had now climbed higher on her toned thigh. She noticed the woman's breath catch.

"I don't think you have a problem with this, either."

The throaty way the brunette spoke was a new side to her that Jacqueline hadn't had the pleasure of experiencing. And a pleasure it was. She felt warmth shooting to the apex of her thighs.

"Jane..." Jacqueline stared into darkened eyes.

"I'm going to do something," she stood from the edge of the chair and subtly hiked up the short skirt that had already left little to the imagination.

Looking for any sign that she was about to make a fool of herself, she noted the increasing rise and fall of Jacqueline's chest, the way she blinked and the way the vein at the side of her neck protruded. There was no miscommunication.

Surprising even herself, Jane climbed atop Jacqueline. The audible gasp brought color to her face and warmth to her core.

"You obviously feel this," she said as she touched her hand to the freckled chest that had picked up speed in its rise and fall as well as a pink hue.

"Yes," her airy reply.

Jane's hand traveled an excruciatingly slow path upward until fingers grazed blonde locks and settled on the back of a tingling neck. She leaned in, her forehead now touching Jacqueline's.

"You wouldn't have brought me here, allowed me this, if you didn't want—"

Firm lips captured the brunette's before the final word could become sound.

Jacqueline kissed like she commanded her staff—at least the way she had always directed Jane. The kiss was firm to start, proving its giver dominant and her intentions not to be doubted. Once the woman in her lap began responding to her request, she placed two gentle hands on partially covered hips and relaxed her control enough to take in the feedback of Jane's parting lips. For a brief moment the often guarded and always cautious editor gave in to the sensuousness of the kiss. And as was her wont, she goaded Jane with her hands briefly deviating from their grasp at the sides of her bunched skirt to give two cheeks a squeeze.

Jane smiled against Jacqueline's mouth, her teeth impeding further kissing.

"You aren't so mysterious after all," Jane hummed, her hearing muffled with the pounding of her heart.

Neither woman knew how long they sat with their foreheads together, Jane's hands on the sides of Jacqueline's face and a delicate pair of hands on Jane's backside.

"I really didn't bring you here for this," she explained. "I wanted time with you without prying eyes."

"I know," Jane whispered.

"I'm not sure I'm..." she hesitated, embarrassed.

Never would anyone who knew woman, this woman who could have everyone in a boardroom eating out of her hand, believe that she could be hesitant about sex. It was charming and endearing. It was an enlightening confession indicating that this wasn't to be some fly by night fuck. Not tonight and not in the future.

"You may have to help me up. I feel rather absurd getting in and out of these chairs," Jane rolled her eyes.

"Let me have—" Jacqueline shyly paused.

"What?" she asked with a willingness to give this woman the world.

"A minute?" she sighed at her neediness.

Tilting her head to the side and trying to hide how moved she was that Jacqueline wanted this quiet, intimate moment with her, Jane slid her knees further toward the back of the couch, her skirt riding up further against Jacqueline's abdomen, and she turned her head to nuzzle in the crook of a perfume and pheromone-scented neck. Strong arms wrapped around her small body and they both released a trembling breath.

_To be continued…_


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: This chapter contains two scenes and the second contains lyrics that do not belong to me. They were originally written by Bert Berns. –dkc

**Chapter Eleven**

Steinem was throwing a party to celebrate the three publications under their umbrella.

The 1960s through the eyes of women theme was fun and brought out fantastic interpretations and send-ups of the feminist icons of the period. The party included a catwalk and talent show, live music and a raffle to raise money for Steinem's favorite women-focused charities.

Jane, Sutton and Kat had arrived in style, beautiful gowns and, in keeping with the theme of the evening, no men on their arms. This was a sisterhood first and foremost.

Sutton's emerald dress made the gold in her hair pop. She had her hair up showing off dazzling teardrop earrings. Though she didn't have a man on her arm she did hope to remind Richard why he fell for her. Kat had her hair down, fairly rare for her and was beautiful in a lavender dress. She felt secure without Adena for the first time since they'd parted in Paris. Jane stood out among the three. She was in a black tux with satin lapels. A thin black tie and pointy red stilettos, she was a knockout. Perhaps like Sutton with Richard, she was trying to remind Jacqueline of something.

"Good evening, ladies," Richard had spotted them quickly. He winked at Sutton. His ERA button was a tasteful touch. "Mind if I borrow her for a moment?"

"Be our guest," Kat grinned.

As the two walked off, Jane stood still noticing the breathtaking editor-in-chief as she entered the party with a fellow editor on her arm. The man wasn't paying any attention to her. Jacqueline's own attention was taken away when she turned and saw the woman across the room whose fiery gaze raised her temperature in seconds. Her eyes roamed up and down the tux-clad body, clearly appreciating her attire. That Jane's shoes and lipstick matched received considerable notice.

"Wow," Kat broke Jane's mesmerized stare. "Sweet baby Jesus, Jacqueline looks good!"

Jane regarded her friend with an _"oh, really?"_ look.

"I don't have the fashion sense of Sutton, but I dare say white is Jacqueline's color. Off the shoulder suits her."

Kat wasn't kidding, Jane concurred. She recalled her first night at Jacqueline's loft—the night she met Ian and the boys—when a sleeveless white blouse was equally captivating.

_Holy shit_. Jane's jaw dropped. As Jacqueline hobnobbed her way further into the room another view of the dress was visible. The deep, swooping material revealed a dangerously bare back all the way down to where the two indentations sat ending her lumbar region.

"I think you're drooling," her friend teased.

"Kill. Me. Now."

"Come on," Kat took her by the hand. "You're going to need a stiff drink."

…

They had decided to sing. No, Sutton had volunteered them. This wasn't karaoke, Jane had whined.

In deciding what to sing they really wanted something unique that fit the night's theme. They decided on "Tell Him" by the Exciters except they were doing the original version, "Tell Her", as it was originally written. Women didn't have to sing about men.

"Go get your inner Diana Ross on!" Kat jabbed at the nervous Jane who was usually a natural on stage. She rolled her eyes.

A round of applause went up when the girls climbed the steps to the constructed stage. Jane looked at Sutton to avoid scanning the crowd for that unbelievable white dress. When she looked up, a brief relief came followed by, paradoxically, disappointment when she didn't see the goddess in white.

The music started up and the girls took their positions. They had practiced the way the Exciters and other girl groups had performed. But Kat and Sutton were happy to cede much of the stage to Jane.

"I know something about love," Sutton's perfectly pitched voice began, a coy look thrown Jane's way with each word.

"You've gotta want it bad

If that girl's got into your blood

Go out and get her

If you want her to be

The very heart of you

Makes you want to breathe

Here's the thing to do"

The other two voices joined her; Jane's voice the standout and Kat's personality lighting up the stage.

"Tell her that you're never gonna leave her

Tell her that you're always gonna love her

Tell her, tell her, tell her, tell her right now."

The crowd really got into the song. There was much hooting and hollering as Kat and Sutton went back and forth on the verses.

Jane's moment had come and her voice, despite the other two each capably carrying their weight, stunned the crowd. It was in the line "then why should true love be so complicated?" that she stumbled. Out of the corner of her eye she identified the smooth stride of the woman in white and their eyes connected. Jacqueline's surprise at Jane's talent was manifest. How did she not know that Jane had an impeccable singing voice?

Her stumble only slightly noticeable, Jane got back on track with her first solo verse:

"I know something about love

You gotta take her hand

Show her what the world is made of

One kiss will prove it

If you want her to be

Always by your side

Take her hand tonight

Swallow your foolish pride"

Jane's eyes bore into Jacqueline, finally catching herself. Thinking it wise she not be so blatant in her eye contact with her boss with the entirety of the corporation in the room, she slid back into position as the choreography picked up.

The girls really got into the remainder of the song. They had half the crowd joining in. Jacqueline spotted a certain writer across the room and realized that he was looking at Jane the way she feared she herself had been. She had met Ryan. It meant nothing to her the night they met. She had also heard that an editor with the publishing house upstairs had signed him to a book deal. That, too, meant nothing to her until she learned what he had offered Jane with his book contract money. She felt nauseous. She continued to watch him watch Jane until the crowd began cheering at the end of the performance.

As the hooting and whistling died down, a group hug was shared. Looking past beaming faces, waving friends and complete strangers, Jane looked for the only person whose reaction mattered to her. Where was Jacqueline?

_To be continued…_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

That afternoon Jane had emailed Jacqueline her long-awaited final draft on how to pick the safe person. She knew her boss would be out of pocket for a dress fitting, hair appointment and a private event prior to the party. Jacqueline had seen the email hit her inbox, but didn't have the time to consider it.

After the party she sat in the fashion closet, dress having been hung and heels removed. She had changed her clothing with the goal of getting some work done in her office despite the late hour. She had yet to leave the fashion closet. She was staring at her phone for the hundredth time. She couldn't bring herself to open the file Jane had sent.

"Oh!" Sutton had barged in, stopped and then continued once she'd confirmed the editor was fully dressed and she wasn't interrupting. "Oliver insisted I return the items from the fashion show tonight. I'll be out of your hair shortly."

Sutton knew there was something wrong. Whatever relationship Jacqueline was developing with Jane, she remained Sutton's boss. It wasn't her place to broach a personal topic or offer a listening ear. She shook her head at how ludicrous this was given that Jacqueline had once slept in her bed.

Moving toward the door, she stopped when Jacqueline spoke her name. She had never heard that voice so conflicted.

"When you decided not to sign the paperwork with Richard and your relationship ended, did that make it easier for you?" Sutton was surprised at the question and even more surprised by how much Jacqueline appeared to know. She suspected it was Richard and not Jane who had told her.

"No," she was blunt. "It was awful. I had to see him still. Every single day I dreaded a chance meeting in the elevator or seeing him at a work event with his girlfriend then fiancée. I drank too much, spent far too many nights clubbing. I wanted to be anywhere but here. Had Oliver not taken a huge chance on me, I would have looked elsewhere."

Jacqueline respected the young woman's candor. She nodded her appreciation.

"Jacqueline?" Sutton stopped herself from exiting the room without saying what she thought she had a responsibility to. "I say this as someone who loves her: Jane is worth it."

"Thank you." The whisper never made it to Sutton's ears.

...

Sitting at her desk, the clock striking 2 a.m., Jacqueline had finally opened Jane's article. She hadn't had a drink since leaving the party and wanted one desperately. She also wanted to have a clear head for whatever was to come. Deep breaths would have to suffice.

_What is a 'safe' choice?_

_by Jane Sloan_

_From the time we are toddlers we begin having our options presented to us as either safe or 'other'. Other might mean dangerous or risky, but it could mean a long shot or an ill-conceived notion. For a toddler it is made to be simple. Is it a safe idea to climb on the kitchen table? No, of course not. The alternative then is nothing. Do it and fall or don't do it and what? Carry on?_

_As we reach adolescence these decisions get presented to us differently. Safe no longer means the opposite of risking life or limb. It means picking safe friends, having safe sex, applying to a safety school. What was once used to ensure our physical safety evolves to protect our emotions. _

Jacqueline found herself leaning back in her chair and the tension in her shoulders giving way. She was relieved to find the article wasn't presented as Ben vs. Ryan. She should have known better, her newest writer may write about deeply personal issues, even to the point of tearing herself up writing them, but she had never once set out to hurt anyone in the process.

Slipping off her sandals and lifting her feet on to the corner of her desk, she continued reading. It was a brilliantly framed piece.

The latter third is where the fear started building. Jacqueline wore too many hats. Where she could wear the hat of an unbiased editor at the top of the piece, the hat she wore as a human being with real feelings, fears and desires trumped all as she read on. She pinched the bridge of her nose to hold off tears. The deep emotional turmoil she was experiencing unbalanced her. This was not like her. This was not how you felt in the face of a decision that had nothing at all to do with you.

The careful precision of Jane's voice continued:

_If two options are put before you, one safe and the other perilous, your natural inclination will push you to pick one or the other notwithstanding the details. Do you have a safe, calculating personality or are you a risk-taker? But what if there is a third option? What if that construct we've known since we were toddlers is false? What if there is an option that isn't 'safe' or 'other' but some combination of both?_

Jacqueline's breath caught and the tears she had been keeping at bay fell.

_As toddlers we lived in a black and white world where people were either good or bad. Our actions were either right or wrong. As adults we inhabit a world painted in grays. We may do the right thing for the wrong reasons. We no longer have to choose between safe and perilous, love and lust, what we want now or what we want most. As adults we can make messy, complicated decisions and live messy, complicated lives. _

Her eyes now clouded with tears, happy and relieved tears, the editor set her iPad down on her desk. Her hands ran through her product-heavy hair. She shook her head at how enamored she was.

She felt Jane's presence before she heard soft footsteps and the air displaced from her door opening.

"If I didn't know better, Ms. Carlyle, I'd think you sleep here," that voice had such power to lift her mood.

Making her way behind Jacqueline's chair, the brunette kissed the top of the woman's head and rested her chin there.

"Oh, you know better, do you?" she baited.

"Well…" Jane dragged the word out, her arms draping across the blonde's chest. "I know you have a bed. I've seen you sleep in a bed. I think I would know if you had a bed here."

Placing her feet one after the other on the floor, Jacqueline turned her chair around to face Jane. The younger woman noticed the tracks of tears.

"Sutton?" she assumed.

Jane nodded. Sutton had come home to find Jane reading a book on the couch. Without divulging what was said to her in confidence in the fashion closet, Sutton mentioned that Jacqueline was at the office and Jane should go to her.

"Come sit with me?" Jane held out a hand. Together they moved to the couch. Unlike the dozen or so previous times, they didn't bother to sit apart. Jane sat, holding her arm out for Jacqueline who curled up against her side.

"I read your article," she said as her arm went around Jane's middle. Either the late hour or the events of the day had left Jacqueline ambivalently sharing this intimacy at the office. "I have no notes for you."

"None at all?" Jane smiled.

"I'm sure if you give me more time, I will," she mock threatened.

"Want to tell me about the tears?"

For so often being a bull in a china shop about her wants, Jane could be remarkably tender when it came to what others needed. She was compassionate and real. It had been a long time since Jacqueline had felt the value of something personal to her mattering to another.

Briefly burying her face against Jane's shirt and letting out an extended exhalation, the blonde sat up and ran her hands through her hair—hair that looked like this had been done a lot tonight.

"Nobody has ever left me undone, Jane," she admitted. "You, whether you know it or not, have this unique ability to leave me hanging on every word, counting the seconds until I can steal a glance, see your smile, hear your voice. Maybe you always have and I was able to separate it before. I can't anymore."

Jacqueline was now sitting cross-legged on the couch, her knees pressing against Jane's hip and thigh as she alternated between looking at her, looking at her hands and rolling her eyes. This larger-than-life personality with all of the awards and admiration to show for an impressive career was stripped down to her basic self. She was a woman, a woman who had been through a great deal of tumult in her personal life, uncertainty in her professional life and who had fallen for a younger woman despite all that.

"Jacq—" Jane felt the weight of the single syllable on her tongue and left it there. "Did what I wrote scare you? Was it the wrong thing right now?"

Taking one manicured, restless hand, Jane waited. She hoped she hadn't ruined them with her honesty.

"Scared? Maybe, but we both know this is terrifying," there was Jacqueline's soft smile. "Was it the wrong thing to say? God no."

Burden that had been held in the shoulders of the writer released.

"I saw Pinstripe tonight."

Those four words opened the door to what would be a larger explanation of what had so unnerved the editor-in-chief.

"You were singing and his eyes never left you. The unadulterated look on his face, Jane," melancholy infiltrated her voice. "He's taken with you."

Jane didn't know what to say. She thought it best to allow the woman to let go of all that she must have turned over and over in her mind tonight. Now was her time to listen. Her turn to listen was past due.

"I watched him watch you. I identified with the unguarded expressions on his face. For him you were the only other person in that room. He cares for you."

The sinking feeling the brunette experienced was tearing at her heart. _Please, Jacqueline, don't do this_, she begged in her mind.

"I see why he made the generous offer he did," she continued. "His book deal was fortuitous. He would have jumped. He would have done whatever you needed if you had asked. And you know what? So would Ben. He's a stand up guy. Do you know why? They are entirely different men with personalities in contrast. You know why they both would do whatever is needed at this point in your life to make you happy? It's you. It's who you are. They see it."

Jane's eyes glistened with tears. She placed another hand over the delicate hand she was already holding on to for dear life.

"You bring this out in people. It is impossible to not be drawn to your energy, your passion. It is impossible to not hunger for every stolen glance, an elusive smile. They have seen you when you chew on your bottom lip when you're writing and torn between an adjective and adverb. They've lost themselves in your eyes, the sight of your body, your kiss, your…sex."

Taking a minute to brace her nerves for what she was to say next, the woman placed her forehead against the shoulder before her and took a shaky breath.

"I want those things," she murmured.

"Look at me," Jane pleaded, taken aback by the dark emotion in the eyes that met hers. "You have seen me like that, too."

It wasn't an assertion or a question. It simply was.

"Aside from one of those things, you are no different than they are."

"But—" the woman beside her was cut off as Jane launched into a clarification for the ages.

"You have seen the things they have, but you have seen so much more. You are incomparable in my eyes. You are the one I trust. You see me at my most vulnerable. You see me when I am a complete mess. You've seen me when I've been drunk and nonsensical. You see me when I am riding the high of a well-received article and your praise. You see my potential. You see my faults—every last one of them. For better or worse, you see the idiosyncrasies that make me who I am. Have they seen me naked? Yes. They have never seen me stand before them emotionally stripped bare. In fact, I'm not sure Sutton and Kat have entirely. You get me. You always have. And I want that in every possible sense."

Tears had long made their way to Jacqueline's chin and her heart was swelling with love and fulfillment.

"Now unless you do have a bed stashed here that I don't know about, take me home."

Jacqueline leaned in and slowly kissed Jane's lips.

"Let's go."

_To be continued… (sorry, not sorry)_


	13. Chapter 13

Author's note: Sorry for the delay. I wanted to get this right. It is not for the faint of heart or less than mature audiences. Likely one more chapter to come. -dkc

**Chapter Thirteen**

Holding hands in the car had kinetic energy. Obviously, it was fueled by anxiety. They arrived at Jacqueline's building in less than five minutes yet expectations made it appear longer.

"Goodnight, Ms. Carlyle," the driver said as they stepped out of the car.

"Goodnight, Mike."

Jane had met Mike once before. She smiled nervously at him.

"Ms. Sloan," he nodded as she passed.

They entered the elevator and Jane found herself fighting off laughter. Jacqueline gave her a curious look.

"It's a good thing you don't have a doorman or I would really feel like I'm being judged," she explained.

Pulling her in, the blonde pressed a kiss to Jane's lips.

"Nobody is judging you."

Walking into the loft awoke the butterflies both women. They paused at the kitchen island.

"Do you—?" Jacqueline motioned to various bottles on the bar.

"No."

Jane's dark eyes consumed Jacqueline.

Taking a breath as she came to fully accept that this was happening, the older woman held out a hand and led the way to her bedroom.

"So, when you assumed I have a bed, it's, well, it lacks one qualification. It's new and they didn't install the platform," she stared ahead at the bed that was lying on the floor. She was unable to say anything more when hands turned her body by her shoulders.

Losing her hoodie, Jane had on a tank underneath, but no bra. Her nipples were protruding through the cotton. Jacqueline was thrilled at this finding. Seeing blue eyes turn black with desire, Jane lifted the tank over her head and held still. The journalist could compose a tome about the nuances of Jacqueline's facial movements. She moved her fingers under the waistband of her yoga pants she had thrown on after the party. The pants hit the floor. Clad in only a red thong, she was free of her typical insecurity. Her audience wouldn't have permitted it.

"That matched your shoes and lipstick tonight," Jacqueline's huskiness surfaced, her arousal obvious as she looked at the undergarment.

"I had a matching red bra on earlier," Jane smirked. "You missed it."

Taking a step forward, small hands began the delicate work of unbuttoning her soon-to-be lover's shirt.

The exquisite nude strapless bra was an offering for Jane.

She couldn't count the number of times she had admired freckled cleavage or thought a hint of a nipple was poking through a sheer top. This view was superior to all others. Under the guise of removing the unbuttoned shirt, Jane's knuckles brushed against the tops of two perfect globes. The quick intake of air and almost imperceptible jutting out of her chest gave Jacqueline away. She not only wanted this, she had never wanted anything more.

"Help me out of these," she asked, undoing the button on her skinny jeans.

Peeling the pants down enticing legs, Jane lowered herself to assist Jacqueline step out of them. Looking up she found herself contemplating the simplicity of the nude-toned, seamless thong. Of course it was practical yet sexy.

Before returning to her full height, slightly shaky fingers removed the intimate item. She swore under her breath at the sight before her. Jacqueline glistened.

Standing up, Jane kissed Jacqueline hard. Passionate and verging on sloppy, they smiled against one another's mouths. They slowed to savor every touch and taste. Walking backward to the bed was no easy feat. The mattress hit Jacqueline's calves and as she was falling backward her limbs tangled in Jane's, pulling the brunette with her. They landed in a heap with a 'harrumph." They laughed at the absurdity of it.

Jane's leg was draped over the midsection of the woman who now had nothing on but her bra. Jane could feel Jacqueline's need where her leg touched the woman's lower lips.

Jacqueline whimpered.

Trying to find the will to pull away, Jane attempted to rise to her knees, but Jacqueline had other plans. Flipping over so she had the upper hand, once atop the surprised Jane, she lowered herself briefly on upper thighs to show just how wet she was. A gasp was followed by a low cry.

Rising, the woman on bottom initiated a scorching kiss. As she was semi-upright, Jane efficiently unclipped the strapless bra; her hands ready to replace the cups. When her thumb pressed into a stiff nipple, she couldn't help but thrust her pussy up in hopes of creating contact. She placed her other hand in the middle of Jacqueline's chest and her eyes ate up the view. Relaxing her core, the thumb she'd introduced to a hungry nipple was swatted away. She was pushed flat to the mattress.

Jacqueline used a flat tongue to acquaint herself with dark, sensitive nipples. She eagerly lapped up the taste of Jane's skin. The woman beneath her reached her arms above her head to grip the headboard. Her hips came off the bed and strong hands pushed them back down; eyes told Jane exactly what was about to happen.

"Oh, god," the brunette moaned.

Sliding lower on bare thighs, the blonde hooked her fingers into red lace on each of Jane's hips. She slowly, so agonizingly slowly, pulled the material down until it could be maneuvered off of feet and tossed to the floor. The view she was presented was mouthwatering.

"You are fucking striking," Jacqueline growled.

"If you growl like that again, you're going to end up on _your_ back with _your_ hips pinned down," Jane's pupils were ready to swallow Jacqueline whole.

"Is that a promise?" she regarded Jane with indulgence as her hands offered light touches in a straight line until she reached the apex of those thighs that she had so often been given glimpses of in treacherously short skirts and shorts.

Jane whimpered when her thighs were spread apart. She held her breath, closed her eyes and then exhaled slowly. Jane's hips bucket at the shock of contact.

Pressing her tongue against the glossy slit, she teased the length. She touched the swollen button that made her lover writhe. Soon the downward flicking was matched with the direction of uncontrollable pelvic thrusts that pushed against the hands still firmly holding down those hips to discourage such movement. When a hand left a hip to trace its way up to a small breast, Jacqueline could no longer proceed patiently. A finger slipped inside, her tongue remaining circling that hooded button. Jane cried at the penetration.

"Oh, Jane," Jacqueline panted between sucking and tugging.

Brown eyes alternately bore into the face between her thighs and disappeared between heavy eyelids.

Jane had quickly found a rhythm with her hips, her knuckles white where she was dripping the headboard. She tweaked her own nipple, adding the stimulation she herself would need to ultimately get off. An added finger made her let out a primal scream; she had no doubt her climax was about to barrel into her.

When the vibration reached her clit from Jacqueline's pleasure at hearing her screamed name, Jane pummeled into the most intense orgasm she had experienced in her brief history of orgasms. If this is was orgasms were supposed to be, she was whipped.

Jacqueline gently cleaned her up as she rode the slowly waves. She in turn cleaned up a messily wet face and fingers before bringing an arm down from the headboard to open to the blonde. Jacqueline collapsed next to Jane, her leg draped over the lower abdomen that rose and fell as Jane sought normal breathing. The position mirrored how Jane was draped before Jacqueline took control.

"I got you there," Jacqueline hummed proudly.

"Yes, you sure did."

_To be continued…_


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Do you need to get that?" Jacqueline asked after the phone had chimed. "I don't mind."

The two were wrapped up in post-coital bliss.

"No, Sutton knows where I am."

"Does she now?" she couldn't resist a teasing nibble of Jane's earlobe.

"Not where I am precisely!" Jane squeaked.

Having an arm around the beautiful woman beside her was exponentially better than where she would have otherwise been had Sutton not given her the heads up about Jacqueline being at the office.

The phone chimed again.

"That's it, I'm getting it," Jacqueline rolled over and tried to reach the hoodie that had been discarded on the floor beside the bed. With a sheet strategically covering her backside and hair that was messy from having had fingers all through it tonight, she was a vision. Jane's eyes followed her body the entire way, not ashamed of what she had previously referred to as leering. The phone was held up in the air in victory, but its owner was far too busy admiring the highs and lows of an exquisite body to cheer the victor. "Now I'm curious."

Smiling at Jacqueline's interest in who was texting Jane at nearly 4 a.m., she took the phone and saw Kat's name on the lock screen. She opened it and saw the shocked emoji. Kat had clearly spoken to Sutton. The second text had also been from Kat, the sentiment of which Jane felt worthy of sharing so she turned her phone for the blonde to see.

_Go get her, girl! Bow chicka wow wow_, it read.

Covering her face with one hand, Jacqueline groaned. Kat and Sutton would definitely know in a few hours, if they didn't already, that Jane had totally hooked up with their boss. However, her embarrassment wasn't at all about that it happening, her embarrassment was at how everyone but she and Jane seemed to know it was about to happen. Obviously, what the hell took so long?

"They'll play it cool," Jane said. "I promise."

"Sutton walked in on me, fully clothed mind you, paused and closed her eyes in the event I, I don't know, wasn't dressed or was doing something untoward in the fashion closet. That girl has never played it cool in her entire life."

They shared a long laugh about that truth. Jane's laughter was stifled by a yawn.

"We really should go to sleep," Jacqueline lay on her back and enveloped Jane with her arm. "It has been a very long day."

"A very long and wonderful day."

Being curled up together was the most relaxed and happy either of them had been in some time. They reveled in the silent contentment.

"Jacq?" Jane spoke softly.

"Hmm?" she replied.

"You better still be here when I wake up in the morning."

Pressing a kiss to Jane's forehead, Jacqueline Carlyle's smile reached her eyes and her soul.

"I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else.

...

"Alright, people, writers meeting in 5!" Jacqueline's voice got the attention of everyone in the bullpen including the tiny brunette in the corner whom she hadn't seen in thirty-six hours.

"Do you have your pitch ready to go?" Alex leaned over to ask a distracted Jane.

"Umm...yeah," she mumbled.

"Jane!" her ears registered that she was being summoned.

Standing from her desk and walking toward her editor, Jane was surprised that she still got the same mix of adrenaline, fear and anticipation as she made that walk across the bullpen. She still felt like that green writer who was terrified and captivated by the head of _Scarlet_. Even though she'd seen the woman naked. _No, no, no! Do not think of her naked right now_, Jane chastised herself.

"Sit down," Jacqueline motioned to the chair.

"It must be serious." Jane was anything but.

Rather than circle her desk and sit, Jacqueline leaned against the front of it, arms crossed as she looked down on Jane. There was a mischievous glint in her eye.

"I thought it would be a good time to go over ground rules."

The seated woman was on a razor's edge as Jacqueline spoke conspiratorially: "Before you go into the pitch meeting you are going to button at least one more of those," gesturing to the salaciously unbuttoned blouse, "or I won't be able to conduct the meeting in a coherent manner."

"And?" Jane smirked knowing there was more.

"You cannot bait me. There will be no pitches about workplace romances, cougars or any other topic that makes me think of you under me."

The comment about cougars brought about an uncontrolled bit of lip biting. Nodding her understanding given the number of times their professional interactions had been derailed by a wink or a poorly veiled flirtation.

"Is there something else?" Jane suspected there was one more rule, one Jacqueline knew was necessary but was having a hard time articulating.

"The fashion closet, my office, the bathroom, the stairwell or any other space that might seem private but still exists in this building is off limits after the meeting. No matter how pent up our frustration after being in close proximity, we cannot act on it...physically," she was firm as to hold herself to this rules but left a hint of playfulness that suggested she would definitely be tempted regardless.

"I see," Jane's eyes were wandering the length of the editor's legs. "And when no longer in this building?"

The sound that escaped Jacqueline's lips was, for lack of a better word, guttural.

Jane pinched her mouth together in an attempt to not make another comment that would make getting out of this office without touching impossible and thus make the morning meeting unbearable.

…

"Sage?" Jacqueline glided into the room, her iPad in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. "Update on the sex column."

Jane had no idea what to expect, but she certainly wasn't expecting the meeting to begin with the topic of sex. It was _Scarlet_ after all. She kept her eyes on her notes to avoid Jacqueline's eyes when whatever was said would invoke her commentary.

"Types of orgasms," Sage said matter-of-factly. "Clitoral, vaginal, anal, g-spot, a combo."

"Don't neglect nocturnal orgasms," Jacqueline began and Jane was clenching her teeth to avoid her jaw dropping, "exercise-induced, the elusive boobgasm."

Jane dropped her pencil and it sounded like a sledgehammer in her ears. Nobody else seemed to notice, but Jacqueline had. She'd file away the idea of a boobgasm for a later encounter.

"We'll be going with a glossary format and a challenge."

"I like the challenge idea," having yet to sit down, Jacqueline was leaning forward, her cleavage on display in the scoop neck tee that probably cost as much as Jane's weekly salary. The jacket she had over top formed perfectly to her body. "Experience something you haven't? Attempt to experience it all?"

Jane tried desperately to cover a coughing fit. The boss glanced at her with a devious smirk as Sage explained the layout. She sat down and stopped teasing the brunette with her display of cleavage.

Once she had composed herself, the writer realized that they had the benefit of a wood tabletop in the conference room unlike the transparent desk in the boss's office. Smoothly and discretely she moved her leg over and grazed Jacqueline's. She thanked the universe that they had both worn skirts. Her skin touched skin and she noted the blonde's jaw clench and her breathing quicken. This wasn't fair and Jane knew it. She didn't continue to provoke Jacqueline, but she did leave her leg resting where it was. The mere touch was comforting.

"Alright, let's get the glossary drafted and maybe a diagram of some sort? I'm not sure what kind of image we would otherwise go with that would be safe for newsstands," the editor-in-chief directed.

Turning to look at Jane and Alex, she awaited one of them giving their pitch. Jane was procrastinating and allowed Alex to jump in. His was a very masculine approach, as it often was and that truly was why he was on the staff. _Scarlet_ had focused on growing their male readership in the Jacqueline Carlyle era. It also sought to make feminists of more men.

"I like it," Jacqueline responded. "See if you can't get a perspective from a blue collar worker, too. Not just the demographic that wears a tie to work. Not that there is anything wrong with your tie."

The staff laughed as Alex showed off his fancy new tie.

"Jane?" she opened the floor to the writer.

"Heartbreak. When it's okay to not be heartbroken after a breakup and why we feel that way."

Jacqueline gave a knowing nod and seemed to be mulling the idea over in her head before responding.

"Interesting. Should we distinguish between breakups in newer relationships or sustained, committed relationships? People who live together, are in a partnership or married?" she offered these ideas to challenge Jane to step outside her own experience.

"Relationships that share an emotional connection or bonding event, maybe?" Jane wasn't certain herself.

"Think about it a bit more and see me before the end of the day with your final idea."

Jane held back a smile and the thought of seeing Jacqueline at the end of the day. In her office. Near that red couch. With Jacqueline in that to die for pencil skirt. She should be uncertain in all of her morning meeting pitches.

_To be continued…_


	15. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Jacqueline lounged on the couch in her office, printouts stacked in her lap, red pen in hand as she made final edits. The night she handled this task, usually Thursday night, was one she looked forward to. The office was quiet; she could play soft music, have a tumbler of scotch and do the work she enjoyed most.

Jane also knew this was Jacqueline's favorite time in her otherwise chaotic schedule. She had more than once approached the boss's office at a late hour on a Thursday night to inform her of the status of an article or ask if she needed anything. Over the last few weeks she had been invited in to have a drink and they would end up talking rather than working.

"I can hear you thinking," Jacqueline said, her back to the door but her sense of Jane's presence finely tuned.

"Ah, if only you could hear the exact thoughts," Jane smiled, clearly caught.

"Can I guess?" the blonde turned to look over her shoulder and saw that Jane was dressed down. She must have gone to the gym after work and then returned. That Jacqueline was worth the effort of coming back to the office was something she was still getting used to. "You were thinking how delicious this scotch looked."

Stepping toward the couch, lifting Jacqueline's legs, sitting down and resting those tempting legs in her lap, she knew what looked delicious was not the scotch.

"May I have a sip?" she reached for the glass and welcomed the gratuitous touching that took place as they exchanged the drink. Oh, how far they'd come from the butterflies of a slight graze.

"What brings you back to the office?" the older woman already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it. She needed to hear it.

"You."

Jane could be to the point when it mattered. She could ramble and lose the thread when nervous. Jacqueline had seen a lot of the latter.

"I have your edits," Jacqueline said this in a way that suggested she didn't have anything by way of notes, instead that she wanted to open a discussion about the topic and how Jane felt about it.

"I still haven't come to any conclusion about whether it is significant if you aren't heartbroken after a breakup. I wish I had life experience to impart. I don't."

"Breakups suck," Jacqueline said. "But then you get past it. You move on. You find things to distract you. You meet new people. You flirt, you pine, you lust, you love, you fuck, you make love, you fall in love. And then one day it doesn't hurt at all if it ever did."

Jacqueline hadn't said much about Ian or the divorce. She seemed genuinely okay. Jane trusted that if the woman wanted or needed to talk about it, she'd be comfortable enough to broach the topic.

"I realized something as I wrote this one," Jane said. "How I have felt about the ending relationships in my life in no way compares to the feelings I experience at the mere thought of losing you."

Placing her papers and pen to the side, Jacqueline managed to scoot forward despite the confines of her pencil skirt. Her knees were to her chest as her bottom connected with Jane's thigh.

"I'm not going anywhere," she insisted.

Staring at the blonde with what was now unending adoration, Jane allowed the statement to wash over her. She badly wanted to believe it.

"The day I started at _Scarlet_, four years ago as an assistant, I was terrified of you."

"You were but a baby then," Jacqueline thought back.

"I've done a lot of growing since, yes." Jane largely ignored the comment. "You had a reputation of being tough but fair. You took young women under your wing, guided them through the insanity of publishing. People pointed to the writers who had come through _Scarle_t and gone on to _Vanity Fair_ or _Vogue_. The legend of Jacqueline Carlyle was intimidating. And then I met you, spent time around you. The misogynistic portrayal of women editors as bitchy and backstabbing was not evident in the way you operated. Slowly I found you approachable—even if I had the propensity of being an idiot. I can't remember when I started to trust you. I mean really trusted. Obviously, I began to see I could trust you with my career and trust you to lead me away from writing about subjects that I would regret. But it was the other I can't quite remember."

Holding herself in that position with one arm on the back of the couch, Jacqueline couldn't touch Jane the way she wanted to. She turned her legs so that she could wrap an arm around the brunette.

"The night you invited me into your home, maybe," Jane continued. "I opened my heart to you. What came later was exhilarating and I spent a lot of time thinking about it, but I didn't spend as much time considering how in deep I was, how emotionally compromised I was."

"Compromised?" Jacqueline didn't understand the connotation.

"Umm... exposed? Raw?" she waited for the blonde to nod her acknowledgment before continuing. "That scared the hell out of me. I almost ran."

Jacqueline took one of Jane's hands and held it tightly in her own. Tears were beginning to cloud her vision. She had no idea how close she had come to losing something she was only beginning to have. Their evolution could have been ripped away.

"I guess what I'm saying is that while I hear you say you aren't going anywhere, I need you to hold me close, anchor me. When I begin to pull away because I'm scared of this, please don't let me."

Placing a kiss to Jane's temple, Jacqueline measured her words carefully. She knew the significance of what she said now.

"You have anchored me recently. It would have been easy to let the changes in my life get the better of me. That night in my office when I found out… You were the one pulling me back in, saving me from my pain. If you need me to anchor you, I will do that. If you need me to wait, I will do that. We can be scared together."

Jane turned into Jacqueline and pressed a firm kiss to her mouth.

"Come home with me?" the blonde asked.

"I dressed for that very possibility," Jane smirked.

"And here I thought you were going to get a workout in tonight."

"Who said I can't do both?" the writer stood and held out a hand to the tall editor in her now wrinkled skirt.

Pulling her in, Jacqueline secured the small woman in her arms, pressing their bodies together and teased Jane with a nibble to her ear.

"I need one other thing," she hummed the words with a bit of a whimper as suction took hold of the lobe.

"Name it," the editor hissed once her mouth was no longer preoccupied.

"One day, even if its at four in the morning before anyone shows up for the day and late enough that custodial has left, I am going down on you on this couch."

The editor-in-chief was suddenly weak in the knees and desperate to get Jane home. Her moan was approval enough.

"Let's get out of here," Jane took charge.

After gathering her things and finding the ability to speak again, Jacqueline turned for the door and waited for Jane to follow. She surprised herself when once out the glass door she took the other woman's hand in hers and entwined their fingers. Standing in the elevator in silence, Jane had a goofy grin on her face. She rocked her shoulder into Jacqueline's.

As the elevator doors began to open, Jane dropped her hand knowing that there would still be security in the lobby and the juice and coffee bar would still be open. It was then that Jacqueline took her shot:

"Oh, Jane? You are aware there's a couch at my house, right?"

Jane's jaw dropped and her legs ceased moving.

"Are you coming?" Jacqueline said over her shoulder, laughing when she saw Jane hurrying after her.

-_finis_-


End file.
